


burn wild

by tiedbows



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Biting, Established Relationship, First Time, Galra Features, Galra Keith (Voltron), M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Some Plot, Tenderness, if this fic were a steak dinner then the plot is parsley, things get soft and tender before they get sexy folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 00:38:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17254361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiedbows/pseuds/tiedbows
Summary: “Shiro,” the name comes out as a sigh. Breathless. It’s the sound of content. It’s years of promises and hope and waiting and unwavering devotion wrapped in a single word, a name.It’s everything.-Turns out Keith's Galra features don't just appear when he's stressed.





	burn wild

**Author's Note:**

> *squints* this started off being about their first time and idk what happened here lmao oh well!!
> 
> the idea for this was inspired by a comment @wolfsan11 made months ago (ty bb) and i aimed to deliver before the end of 2018. i refused to end the year without at least writing my first sexy fic so here ya go 
> 
> this fic goes out to a lot of important people in my fandom life. i love you all dearly and look forward to making more fun memories in the new year

The door slid open with a quiet swoosh, the stillness of the empty quarters broken with a ray of artificial light and stifled laughter. Two figures stumble into the dark, tangled in each other as they made their way toward the bedroom off to the side, snickering in between short, excited kisses when they bump into the wall and kick off their boots along the way to their destination. 

 

A floating arm emitting a soft teal glow sails through the air and, with a quick tap to the keypad, sets the combination pin that locks the door for the night. 

 

The arm zooms back, rejoining its organic counterpart at their rightful place around a waist so small the finger tips nearly brush. The prothesis slips down, and the younger man moans into a kiss when the larger hand squeezes his ass like it's hanging on for dear life. 

 

“Shiro,” the name comes out as a sigh. Breathless. It’s the sound of content. It’s years of promises and hope and waiting and unwavering devotion wrapped in a single word, a name. 

 

It’s everything. 

 

“Keith,” he mumbles into the curve of an ear, teeth just grazing the lobe, but it’s enough to make his lover squirm. So sensitive. Shiro squeezes him again for good measure, enjoying the gasp that falls from Keith’s lips when the hand lifts his bottom and pulls him closer until they can feel the heat of each other through their uniforms. 

 

“God,” Keith moans, pulling back just enough to slide his hands between them to start unbuttoning the front of Shiro's jacket. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.” 

 

“I think I can take a guess.” Shiro’s laugh is airy and delighted in the way Keith peppers his chin and jaw with kisses as he finally gets the last button undone. 

 

“Finally,” Keith sighs, running his hands over the uncovered white tank stretched thin over Shiro’s chest and outlines his abs. Perhaps the sight is nothing new, but the moment is. Keith recalls the distant memory of unwrapping presents on Christmas morning — the way Shiro shudders when his hands trail down to his belt is a gift in itself. 

 

Shiro shrugs off the jacket as Keith removes the belt with rushed hands, and the tank follows it to the floor. Keith takes a moment to absorb the glorious sight before him that is Takashi Shirogane shirtless, the way his chest rises and falls in excitement and soft pants escape kiss-bruised lips. 

 

Something searing lights under his skin. This is all for him. 

 

It’s the wave of hunger and want that boils in Keith’s stomach that makes him push the older man onto the bed. The sound that passes Shiro’s lips is laughter meets surprised gasp when his back collides with the mattress with a bounce. Keith kicks off his own pants on unsteady legs and is on him before he can say a word, stripping Shiro down to his briefs, straddling his solid waist and settling on top of firm thighs.

 

The alloy hand tangles itself in the mess of black hair and pulls Keith down until their mouths reconnect and they are flushed chest to chest. The other hand grabs blindly at the bedside table, searching for the well-loved bottle of lube. Their kisses are messy, noisy, starving, like they are both men who have wandered the desert in search of water and have each found an oasis. 

 

The sharp jolt of pain in his skull shocks Keith out of the lustful haze and he springs back to the cold side of the bed, head in his hands while the pain ebbs away. He knows what this means, has felt this before, and it makes him want to hide long after it goes away. 

 

“Keith? What’s wrong?” The bed shifts and Shiro is up in an instant. He hovers close behind but does not touch, though Keith knows his hands itch to. “Are you okay?”  

 

“Fine. I'm fine,” he hisses in relief as the pain vanishes. “Just need a second.” 

 

But things are not fine. The ache may be gone, but the feeling lingers and he knows what it means. He can smell the thick scent of concern over taking the arousal in the room, hear the slight pick up in Shiro's heart rate, taste the hint of copper in his mouth. Everything feels sensitive; he feels so aware, all of his senses tingly and heightened in a way that only occurs when he chooses fight over flight. 

 

“I can tell something’s wrong, Keith,” he starts and the warm, familiar weight of Shiro’s human hand finally makes itself known on his shoulder. “What’s going on? You know you can talk to me.” 

 

Hesitation. “Does it- Is it about us? Are we moving too fast? I know I asked you to spend the night, but I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or feel like you have to do anything you’re not ready for.” He sounds disappointed in himself and it makes Keith tense. “We don’t have to-” 

 

“No! It’s not that, I swear,” Keith cuts him off. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I want this. Want you. I’m just afraid of ruining things.” His shoulders sag and he turns halfway, head still down. 

 

Shiro says nothing and he take this as a sign to continue. It’s now or never. 

 

“Sometimes,” he starts, “I can lose control during certain… situations.” He lifts his head and turns to meet Shiro’s gaze. 

 

Keith can see the soft yellow glow of his sclera reflecting in Shiro’s eyes. He imagines his irises have shifted in shade closer toward ultraviolet, like his mother's. The room is quiet as Shiro stares back, unflinching. The hand on his shoulder slides off to cup Keith’s cheek in a sweet hold. 

 

“Oh Keith,” he coos, thumb tracing over the old burn scar. “Keith, they’re beautiful. You’re so beautiful.” 

 

He leans into the touch, face heating up under that loving gaze. “It doesn’t weird you out seeing me like this? Especially when we're...” he trails off, still uncertain.

 

"Never. You'll always be you, no matter what you look like," Shiro reassures. "And I will always love you. I promise that won't change." 

 

Keith smiles at that, just enough to show a hint of fang. His hand wraps around Shiro's wrist, running his thumb over the steady pulse point, and all doubts and nerves disappear. He's not sure how he got so lucky.

 

“But I guess a blow job’s out of the question tonight, huh?” 

 

Keith drops his hand, can’t stop himself from openly gaping like a fish at the unexpected remark, and his expression makes Shiro laugh so hard he's clutching his sides.

 

“I’m kidding!” he cries when he's shoved back against the pillows. 

 

"You're definitely not getting one after saying that, mister," Keith scoffs, but his mouth twists into a smirk as he straddles Shiro's hips. "But lucky for you, I have something better in mind." 

 

Grey eyes burn as they watch the man towering over him strip free of his own jacket and undershirt, leaving him clad in only his boxers. The bulk of the uniform does well to conceal the lean body hidden underneath. Shiro may be the larger of the two, but Keith's compact frame contains an underestimated strength that never fails to get him excited. 

 

Keith rolls their hips together, and the heat radiates through the last thin barriers between them. He leans over Shiro, kisses him with a hungry mouth and trails down to the sharp curve of his jaw, to the expanse of exposed neck. The man below him pants and fidgets the lower he travels, gasping when Keith's lips and sharp teeth ghost over his chest and scars and the ridges of his abs. He stops at the cut v-shape of Shiro's hips where they meet briefs. His teasing has Shiro straining against the fabric, eager to be freed and feel skin. 

 

A pleased noise akin to a purr rumbles through him - he is the only one who can make Shiro feel this way and that makes his own arousal spike. The hitch in Shiro's breath when he leans forward to nuzzle his length is what makes him look up to see Shiro watching through half-lidded eyes. He grins, showing off sharp canines and loves that he can see the flush across his face deepen in the dark. Keith hooks his fingers over the waist and drags the elastic down raised hips, leaving Shiro on full display. He's less graceful when it's his turn to remove his boxers, kicking his legs a little to free the material caught around his left ankle. 

 

He's is smaller compared to Shiro, but thinks Keith is perfect, loves the weight of Keith in his mouth and the way he fits in his grip when they jerk each other off to completion in empty conference rooms. 

 

Keith settles on his knees between spread legs and takes a moment to enjoy the view. 

 

Shiro is a vision spread out bare beneath him, fully hard and leaking against his stomach. Muscles twitch and contract under Keith's gaze, and despite the way he squirms, waiting, as Keith drinks in every inch of him, his face is open and full of affection. Everything about Shiro is beautiful. He's Michaelangelo artwork come to life.  

 

And he's looking at Keith. 

 

He takes his time prepping, staying mindful of his nails, even though Shiro's a withering mess while Keith stretches him out with generously lubed fingers. Every primal Galra instinct in him is screaming to sink into that slicked heat and give Shiro the fucking he deserves, show him who’s in control here, but the thought of possibly hurting Shiro and ruining this moment keeps him grounded. Another, smaller part, just loves taking him apart bit by bit. Keith continues his ministrations until he curls his fingers deeper and Shiro bucks into the air with a startled moan. 

 

"I'm ready.” The Commander of the Atlas whines, impatient, and slings one leg over Keith’s shoulder while the heel of his other foot digs into Keith's lower back, pulling him toward raised hips. That leg hooks around Keith’s waist like a vice. "I need you now.” The demand sends a jolt straight to his core. The free hand not on Shiro's abs moves to secure the leg there. 

 

Keith obeys, but still doesn't rush as he enters. The heat that surrounds Keith as he inches further inside makes him want to throw all caution to the wind and give Shiro everything he has and more. The leg that tightens around him reigns him in, and he works to commit to memory the way Shiro arches his back and presses his head deeper into the pillows when Keith finally bottoms out.

 

"You good?" he croaks. Keith fights every urge to pull out and thrust home in one go, and feels himself twitch with need at the thought alone. He settles for building up a steady rhythm, relishing the way Shiro feels around him. 

 

"Better than good," Shiro sighs, and lays his human hand over the one resting on his stomach. "But what's wrong? You can go faster." He presses forward the moment Keith bottoms out again, grinding his ass up against him in tight circles. 

 

"I- I don't want to hurt you. Not sure what could happen when I'm like this." He hisses when Shiro tightens around him and his knees almost buckle. 

 

"Keith, I swear I won't break. I want it- Baby I want you so much." Another squeeze around him has Keith seeing stars. Shiro grins, his eyes glimmering with mischief and awakened lust. "Now fuck me like it's your only chance."  

 

The growl rumbles deep from within Keith's chest like thunder and his eyes shine bright. “Better hang on, princess.” His hands move to clutch his hips, nails digging into the flesh there, pulling out almost completely before he slams back in and earns a startled moan from Shiro. 

 

Keith rocks his hips back and forth with a growing pace, each thrust hitting home harder than the last. He starts to drop Shiro to meet him with every jerk and the sensation has Shiro holding onto the sheets for dear life. The slick heat and tightness that surrounds him is addicting, and he wants to go as deep as he can to chase the feeling. 

 

With a grunt, he pulls out completely, earning a disappointed groan from Shiro before the man yelps at being manhandled and flipped over onto his side like he weighs nothing. Keith presses himself up against the wide plain of his back, nipping at skin and shoulder blades, and slides a hand under Shiro to wrap around his waist. He keeps his free hand digging into the meat of Shiro’s thigh, propping it up as Keith slides back inside like he belongs there.

 

Shiro chants his name over and over into his pillow like it’s the only word he knows. The new angle Keith has him in is heaven, and he hits that one spot in Shiro with a brutal accuracy that’s lighting his nerves on fire. 

 

He’s getting close. His hand wanders down to the throbbing pulse between his legs - all he needs is a few strokes and he’s gone. 

 

A sudden hold on his wrist brings him to a halt. 

 

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” The voice growls in his ear, amused and possessive, and the ache in Shiro grows stronger. 

 

“Please, please, touch me, please.” He nearly sobs when Keith finally takes him in his hand, loves the way those small, calloused fingers feel spreading the wet heat of him all over. The relief is cut short when the grip stops at the base and tightens, making Shiro gasp. 

 

“You don’t get to come until I say so,” Keith says with a toe-curling thrust that has a few tears escape his lover’s eyes. 

 

The pleasure of each thrust is borderline painful from so much stimulation and he aches for release so bad, but Shiro loves it, loves being putty in clawed hands, loves being cared for and treasured in a way only one person -Keith- can make him feel. Every sensation blurs together and the burning under his skin makes him feel like a star on the verge of exploding.

 

Heat coils tight at the pit of Keith’s belly and his thrusts become frantic, sloppier the closer he gets. The hand around Shiro starts to move in slow strokes, but not enough to push him over the edge. 

 

“How bad do you want it?” he purrs, enjoying the way Shiro whimpers and twitches under his touch. “I want you to beg for it.” 

 

“Keith please, I want it so bad, I love you Keith please please let me come I want it,” he sobs, body trembling in need. 

 

“Then come for me.” Nimble fingers move quick and with a final jerk, Shiro spills over the warm hand, and Keith soon follows after a few quick thrusts, moaning into the back of his neck. 

 

Shiro's hips buck in the open air, relishing the pleasant heat that Keith leaves in him as he starts to come down from his high. 

 

They lay together and let the afterglow settle over them. Keith is careful when he pulls out, making Shiro whine a little at the loss. His senses dim like a light, and it's then he notices his nails are also back to normal. He runs a hand up and down Shiro's side while he stretches out his stiff leg.

 

"Sorry for ruining your sheets," he murmurs into Shiro's back, placing soft kisses along his shoulder. 

 

"'S fine," Shiro sighs, and gives his messy hand a squeeze. "That's what laundry is for." 

 

Keith pulls back to give him some room and winces at the bruises and marks he left decorating Shiro's body. He can only imagine what he left behind on the thigh he was holding up.

 

"You feeling alright? I got pretty carried away.” He can’t help the guilt that creeps in despite the earlier words of encouragement. He’d never hurt Shiro in any capacity if he could help it. 

 

Shiro rolls over to face him, throwing half of his body over so they become a tangle of limbs and presses his sweaty face into the crook of Keith’s neck. It doesn’t work as well as when Keith does it - Shiro’s too big, too long, but he loves it all, and places a kiss along the silver hairline. 

 

“My only complaint is that you pulled out too soon and missed a perfectly good spooning opportunity, but I guess I’ll live.” 

 

Keith huffs out a laugh and pulls back just enough to dip down and give Shiro a kiss. It’s meant to be soft, but the lingering hunger left in both of them threatens to reemerge for another round.

 

“Hey,” Shiro starts, breaking their kiss. “Think you’d be able to do that again for next time?” 

 

A spark of arousal churns at the bottom of Keith’s stomach, and he laughs again.

 

“Yeah,” he nips at Shiro’s bottom lip. “You can count on it.” 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> let's keep yelling about sheith together in the new year!! i'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/tiedbows)


End file.
